


What's on the Menu

by sorcererofsupremepizza



Series: Mycroft and Lestrade - Relationship Shenanigans [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greg is fanonically a good chef, He makes Myc dinner, M/M, Mycroft Being Mycroft, it's a night in at Greg's house, it's dinner and a movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererofsupremepizza/pseuds/sorcererofsupremepizza
Summary: Mycroft goes to Lestrade's place for dinner. Greg cooks a delightful dish, serves some wine, and there's some heavy flirting. Kissing on the couch during Greg's favorite movie comes later.





	What's on the Menu

When Mycroft stepped into the dingy flat, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He had seen Greg’s flat on surveillance footage and the like, but he had never actually seen the inside of it. That was taking it too far, even for him. He didn’t want to scare the man away, not when their first date had gone so well.

Greg had already stepped into the kitchen, donning a simple white apron. “You can make yourself at home. I’m sorry about the mess. I’ve been swamped with paperwork at the Yard and haven’t had time to clean. I haven’t even had a day off since that whole cannibalism thing Sherlock solved last week.” He chuckled softly, withdrawing two defrosted pork chops from his fridge, along with several fresh vegetables and a bottle of Chardonnay.

Mycroft smiled as he heard the man’s voice carry through from the kitchen. He propped his umbrella against the wall near a table with a bowl for keys and other belongings. Mycroft slipped off his coat and looked around for a place to hang it. God, he felt terribly out of place here, but he found a hook next to where Greg’s was currently hanging.

He figured he would get used to it in time. No doubt Greg would feel lost in his home too. Mycroft smiled at the thought of that. He would love to take Greg back to his overly elaborate old house someday. Patience, Mycroft. Get through one date at a time.

He berated himself for thinking in such a way. He completely enjoyed spending time with the man in the kitchen. In fact, instead of just sitting in the lounge and making himself comfortable, he ambled into the kitchen to watch Greg at work. He had impressed upon the government official that his cooking skills were one of the best things about him. Mycroft had to see it for himself to be sure. Sure enough, as he walked into the other room, Greg was busy at work cooking the pork and seasoning it with a flick of garlic and a few other spices.

“You don’t have to wait around in here, you know.” Greg said without turning around. Mycroft noticed that while Greg wore the apron, the Holmes brother’s eyes followed the apron strings downward. His cheeks flushed slightly at the sight before him, rather enjoying it. But then Greg turned around and moved to his countertop to slice up the vegetables.

Mycroft quickly glanced away, clearing his throat slightly. “Don’t be absurd. I’m here for an evening with you, after all. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all,” Greg said, grabbing a chef’s knife from the block nearby. Mycroft noticed that it was stainless steel. Greg didn’t get paid an extreme amount from his work as a Detective Inspector, but it was decent enough. It appeared most of that funding went to his kitchen. So why on earth did he insist on living in such a dreadful apartment? “Sorry, that came out a bit harshly. I get rather focused when I’m cooking.”

Mycroft smiled at him. “No worries, Gregory. These skills are intriguing me. I cannot wait to see what they deliver.” A small smirk twitched on his lips and he took the seat at the end of Greg’s kitchen table. “So, what is the plan for this evening, Inspector? After our night out in your Italian restaurant, and the one soon following when I treated you to a symphony concert and elaborate dinner, I am interested to know what’s… on the menu.” Mycroft licked his lips ever so gently, not breaking eye contact with Greg.

Greg, flustered to a maximum level, blushed a deep red and nearly missed the onion he had been cutting. Luckily, the knife fell directly against the cutting board, missing his fingers. He swore and turned his attention back to the food. God damn, Mycroft, Greg thought to himself. He chuckled nonetheless. “Give me just a few minutes to get this going fully, and then I’ll come back to that comment.”

Mycroft, amused albeit a bit nervous, nodded to him. He noticed the near danger that Greg had caused and his eyes widened in alarm. A small pang of guilt ran through his chest, but it quickly subsided as he realized the man was okay. “My apologies for that. I did not mean to make you nearly amputate your appendages.”

Greg laughed. He rather enjoyed Mycroft’s way with words. The impressive lexicon of the elder Holmes amazed the DI. He wasn’t an idiot, by any means, but Mycroft was the cleverest man in London. Probably in the world. And he was having dinner in Greg’s tiny kitchen. “It’s fine. Wouldn’t be the first time I injured myself cooking.”

“We do learn best from experience, but I would prefer it if you kept your digits out of the dinner. And attached to you.” Mycroft laughed to himself. Greg chuckled too, and threw the freshly chopped veggies in another pan to cook along with some olive oil and a bit of seasoning. Perfect. He poured some wine into two glasses and glanced at Mycroft before walking over to the table, taking the seat next to him. He moved his chair closer; Mycroft did the same and took the glass.

“Thank you, Inspector.”

“Of course, Mr. Holmes. It’s not as fancy as the dinner we had last week, but it’s something.” He said, clinking his glass against the other man’s. “Oh, I was so busy cooking that I forgot something.” Greg set his glass aside and gently leaned forward, grasping the knot of Mycroft’s tie to pull him closer. Their lips soon landed together. The kiss was slow and feather-light initially, but Mycroft quickly gained control of it and deepened it, enjoying the pure bliss that radiated from the both of them. The government official’s hands found themselves tugging Greg closer, one gently caressing his face, the other carding through those silvery locks he adored so much. Greg smirked through the kiss and lightly nibbled on Mycroft’s bottom lip before tugging away.

“Sorry, got to check the food.” He winked at him and sauntered back across the kitchen.

Mycroft pouted slightly, knowing that Greg had done that on purpose to just leave him wanting more. His recently made-official relationship status played in his mind. The night that he had asked Greg out properly was a night he was never going to forget. Their first kiss was as beautiful as expected; most people would have expected the Iceman to be rubbish at it, but with powers of deduction such as his, he could figure exactly what someone wanted. Well, when he was able to think straight. Plus, the fact that he wanted to kiss someone as lovely as Greg Lestrade only made it easier.

That had been a month ago. It only took two dates before the men realized they were just prolonging the time that they could actually be an item. Boyfriends. Mycroft never thought he would accept that term, but he rather loved the idea of it, especially with the man before him.

The rest of the cooking time passed in a blur. The two talked about work and the latest developments in their professional lives. Although that was mostly Greg talking, as Mycroft couldn’t discuss his job with anyone.

“I know I can’t know what you actually do, but something would be nice. You’re so mysterious.” Greg said, but it was an affectionate statement.

Mycroft let loose a short laugh. “You know that if I told you anything at all, I’d have to kill you. And that would be most unfortunate, Gregory.”

Greg was taking a sip of wine and nearly choked as he said the words. He watched the British Government for a minute, unsure whether or not he merely jested. When he didn’t get a read, he gulped down the wine and moved back to the counter to prepare the plates for dinner. He served Mycroft first, topping off his glass of wine. Mycroft thanked him and waited for him to sit down before making a move to taste the meal.

Greg stopped him before he could. “Uh uh, not yet.” He said, raising a finger. Perplexed, Mycroft paused, watching the other man with heightened interest. He disappeared into the other room, only to come back lighting a candle. He placed it on the table and smiled. “There. Now you can go ahead.”

Mycroft shook his head and laughed to himself at Greg’s antics. Greg watched him intently. Mycroft raised the fork to his lips, the food steaming. He bit into the meat.

It was cooked to perfection.

“Delicious.” Mycroft said, but it was hard to tell whether or not he was talking about the food. Greg smiled at him and tucked in himself.

“I’m glad you like it. It was quite simple. I don’t have a lot of stuff in my kitchen, and most of my money goes to helping out the kids, but…” Greg trailed off. The children were a difficult subject for him.

Mycroft noticed the troubled countenance of his boyfriend and sighed. He reached over and grasped his hand. “It is always difficult when families have conflicts, Gregory. I sympathize entirely.” He smiled, just a little.

When the meal was finished, both of them cleaned up the kitchen. Greg hummed and dried the dishes while Mycroft washed them. It was a rather spectacular sight, as Mycroft had finally removed his suit coat, revealing his waistcoat and crisp white shirt. But that was nothing, especially when he rolled the sleeves of said shirt. God, the man wore so much clothing and just seeing him in such a relaxed state made Greg’s mind wander. Greg knew that Mycroft wore as much physical armor as he did mental. He was a tough nut to crack, but he was slowly starting to get a read on him. Slowly, softly, gently. He’d learn to understand the Iceman and ensure that his once icy heart stayed burning hot.

As they finished cleaning up and Mycroft wandered over to the table to finish his glass of wine, Greg smirked and saw an opportunity. He wound the tea towel in his hand round and round itself before playfully snapping it in Mycroft’s direction, hitting him right on the ass. Mycroft actually squeaked and nearly spilled wine on himself, and Greg couldn’t help but double over laughing.

The government official scowled down his nose at the man, but he couldn’t fight back the smile that broke through his normally grim features. “You know, I could have you beheaded for that.”

“I’d like to see you try, my dear.” Greg giggled, hanging the towel over the side of the sink. Before he knew it, Mycroft was hugging him from behind, placing the two wine glasses in the sink as he did so. His arms trailed around his boyfriend like a vine. Greg, shocked, had never seen Mycroft instigate such a deep display of affection. Of course they had kissed, and it was all very well and good, but never something as delightfully domestic as this.

“Well, someone’s feeling cuddly.” He said, glancing over at Mycroft, who had rested his head on Greg’s shoulder. The other man shook with a soft laugh, making Greg smile warmly.

“I have no idea to what you refer, my dear Gregory.”

“And you’re a bloody awful liar.” Greg said as he turned around to face the other man, who had backed off slightly. Mycroft had seen the opportunity. He’d seen several people do the same thing he had just done during his… research sessions on relationships at work. He was clueless when it came to affairs of the heart, but not a single soul needed to know that. It was also a good thing his government laptop was entirely secure from potential prying eyes.

“Mm, perhaps.” He said as Greg turned to face him, his arms draped around his shoulders and meeting behind his neck. Greg’s fingers played with the edge of his hair, tugging it slightly. Mycroft chuckled at him. “Say, what’s the next part of this delightful evening in, Inspector?” The government official practically purred the words at him, and it sent a shiver down the DI’s spine.

“Hmm, I thought we could watch a movie and just enjoy the rest of that wine. And each other’s company. In other words, I want to cuddle with you.” Greg grinned at him. Mycroft blushed and reached down to adjust his already perfect tie. Greg shook his head at him; he was always doing that. He loved it when he did. There were many things about that man that he adored. Of course, it was too soon to say those three little words, but they were always on Greg’s mind. How could one man affect him so strongly?

Oh if Greg only knew that the same exact thoughts were going through Mycroft’s mind at the same time.

“A film? What will we be watching then, Gregory?” Mycroft asked as Greg led him into the lounge.

Greg watched him for a moment. “Well, action movies are some of my favorites. Die Hard in particular.”

Mycroft returned the steady gaze, not letting on that he found action movies absurdly predictable and extremely limited by the genre. Nevertheless, he smiled. “I see.”

Greg furrowed his brow at him. “You don’t want to watch it.” It wasn’t a question. Mycroft glanced up, amused and impressed that Greg had read him so easily.

“I didn’t say that. I normally don’t watch these silly action films. But… It’s what you like, and I’m happy when you’re happy, Gregory.”

Greg beamed, unable to help himself. He played the movie, but Mycroft didn’t catch very much of it. Of course, he could hear the audio. But with Greg lying on top of him, kissing him in that way he enjoyed so very much, he honestly couldn’t care less what was playing in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
